


It Might Be Time

by Demonspit



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: But not really that much tbh, Gen, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Magic Revealed, two halves of a whole dumbass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonspit/pseuds/Demonspit
Summary: It was just a routine patrol trip.Until it wasn't.Everything went just fine.Until it didn't.Bandits have never been too much to handle.Until they were.Merlin never had to use his magic while Arthur watched on.Until he did.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 146





	It Might Be Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternative magic reveal because we’re in quarantine and there’s nothing much to do for me besides sulking over how I wish Arthur had found out about Merlin sooner so there could have been at least a few episodes of Arthur witnessing Merlin being a total badass.
> 
> This is set somewhere in Season 4. Arthur is king, all the knights are together, we ignore that Lancelot never got to see Arthur become king because I didn’t realise until just now as I’m writing this and it makes me sad, Mordred is still off somewhere with the druids conjuring up butterflies or what it is he does, Morgana is off napping somewhere in a hut in the forest.
> 
> The title is taken from Tame Impala's song of the same title for literally no other reason than because I'm shit at titles and I was listening to this album while writing so I just took the song title most fitting.
> 
> Enjoy.

It happened when they were on a routine patrol trip. A patrol they were never supposed to be on in the first place. What kind of king goes on routine patrols anyway instead of simply sending his knights?

King Arthur, that’s who.

He should have never been amongst the group of knights but the king of Camelot was bored of his kingly duties and out of pure coincidence decided the day he was to be judge for the annual garland competition would conveniently be perfect for going back to his roots and joining his loyal knights on a ride. No correlation to the festivities, of course.

As usual Merlin kept telling him what a bad idea he thought this was considering nothing ever went to plan around them anyway, so why give destiny even more of a chance to screw them over?

Naturally the conversation ended with Arthur telling him to shut up, stop being such a girl and go prepare the horses.

Whatever changes Camelot went through, you could always count on the two of them having this argument.

That’s how the group of knights, king and servant found themselves passing through an outlying village when upon noticing the Pendragon Crest on the red capes the knights wore, some people came up to them and told them about some bandits hiding in the forest east of the village, asking them to see if they could do something about it so the people could go about their daily life again, not having to worry about the bandits coming to wreak havoc on the little town.

Arthur of course, noble knight that he was, wasted no time in assuring them they would check out the situation.

Naturally it didn’t take too long for the group to encounter the bandits. It was just Arthur and Merlin’s luck after all. Why would a patrol ever turn out to be routine for them?

They were riding through the trees when they reached a small clearing surrounded by low hills, sunlight streaming through the green canopy, a slight wind rustling the leaves. It would have been a peaceful atmosphere were it not for the silence in the woods. Merlin noticed it at the same time Arthur did, the both of them sharing a knowing glance which had Arthur raise his hand in a signal for the knights behind them to stop their horses.

“What is it, sire?” asked Sir Leon behind them, keeping his voice quiet.

“You hear that?” Arthur didn’t look at Leon while answering, opting to glance around the forest as he kept an eye out for any movement.

The knights looked at each other and shrugged cluelessly.

Arthur sighed and threw his hand up in an exasperated manner. They would never learn, no matter how often they had been in situations like this before, would they?

“There’s no birdsong, no sound of animals moving about the underbrush.” Now he looked at his men with a meaningful look. “It’s too quiet.”

And because it’s Arthur and him saying stuff like that never meant anything good, the bandits of course chose this moment to leave their hiding spots and come sliding down the dirt of the slopes around them, yelling their incoherent battle cries.

Merlin rolled his shoulders and simultaneously his eyes. Just one quiet, peaceful afternoon. One ride without anyone trying to kill them. Was that really too much to ask for?

“Everyone on me!” came the all too familiar command from Arthur, all knights drawing their swords and steering their horses around to form a quick circle, figuring staying seated would give them an advantage since they were higher up than their enemies.

Merlin however – partly because he never listened to what his king said anyway - jumped down from his saddle, knowing he could move more freely on his feet and also remembering every time he’d fallen down from his horse. It’s just not a good time.

While the sounds of battle – clanging swords, cries of pain, blades clashing against chainmail – rose up all around him, Merlin ran around the bandits swerving out of their way, clumsily slashing at some of them with his own sword, trying to get to a vantage point from which he could see all the attackers and help his friends without them seeing him using his magic.

He saw Elyan struggling with his opponent – a tall, beefy looking man with an axe as big as his head – and came to a halt, looking around erratically for something he could use, when he spotted a thick tree branch high above the bandit’s head. Merlin focused on the branch, drew up his magic and let it flow out and into the wood. It snapped off and hit the man square on the head. Merlin quickly continued running towards the edge of the clearing, careful to be gone before Elyan’s bewildered gaze could comprehend the massive and highly unlikely coincidence before him and start to wander around to look for an explanation that would make more sense.

Sliding to a halt behind the tree, Merlin turned around to the site of the battle only to come head to – well, chest – with another bandit. Where in the world do they always get these big men and why did they always seem to want to hurt them?

“Oh hello!” Merlin said, if only to stall while he figured out his next move.

The thug stopped in his movement, pausing the blow he was about to deliver to Merlin’s head for a short moment out of confusion. Enough time for Gwaine to come up behind him, reach up to tap him on his shoulder and hit him in his face as soon as he made the mistake of turning around.

Merlin and Gwaine watched him fall to the ground unconsciously; making a sound upon impact that suggested his leather armour did not in fact just fit unfavourably. Then they looked at each other, grinning.

“Always a pleasure to save a damsel in distress, Merlin!” Gwaine called, already spinning around to jump in and help Sir Percival fight off three bandits.

Merlin rolled his eyes and shook his head at the almost childlike joy Gwaine always displayed whenever there was trouble and finally stepped behind the tree to lean around it and assess the situation before him.

Gwaine and Percival had defeated two of their three opponents, leaving one standing and three more coming at them but seeing as Elyan was joining their little group and considering Percival was even bigger still than the bandit Gwaine had knocked out – oh so the giants didn’t all want to kill them after all – Merlin assumed they’d probably be alright without his help.

Merlin let his gaze wander a few feet farther to where Lancelot and Leon were back to back fighting against another small group of bandits but after Merlin had made a root twist around one of their feet and making him fall to the ground with a huff, Leon ran him through with his sword and their chances evened out.

Which only left Arthur unattended who was –

Wait, where was Arthur?

Swearing under his breath, calling his king names that under different circumstances would have him hanged for treason, Merlin’s eyes flickered around the battle scene, taking in the two groups of his friends, fighting and winning once more; the horses way back on the path between the trees, having been abandoned but not running away because at this point they were all too used to sights like this, all the way up the low hill where he could only just make out the tail end of a red cape.

Before he even realised he was moving Merlin was already halfway up the hill, only slowing his climbing enough to shout at Leon.

“I think Arthur’s chasing one of them. I’m going after him!”

Leon nodded in his direction but Merlin didn’t even notice, seeing as he was up the hill and running through the greenery already. Pushing tree branches out of his way he tried to focus his magic on Arthur so he knew what direction to go.

He didn’t have to go too far before he heard blades clinking against each other, fabric ripping and the telltale sound of a sword piercing through chainmail and likely into skin.

Merlin burst clear of the tree line just in time to see Arthur clutching at his sword arm, the pain making him lose focus enough for the bandit in front of him to knock the blade away from him.

Two other men stood behind him while another – because of course Arthur would go after several enemies alone, how could Merlin ever think he was smarter than that? – kicked him in the back of his knees and Arthur fell to the ground, hand still on the wound in his arm but looking up at the bandit in front of him with his chin up, eyes proud and reckless.

Merlin crouched down into the bushes as he watched on.

“Not so mighty now, are you, Mylord?” One of the men asked, spitting the title with so much venom Merlin couldn’t help but wonder how so much hatred could even develop. He figured he just had to look at how Morgana went from the loving king’s ward to the murderous traitor she had become to get his answer.

Arthur didn’t give much of a reply, just did his usual spiel of asking what they wanted. Was it money? Did he wrong them in any way? Merlin knew this was his way of stalling, making time for his knights to come to his rescue.

Arthur glanced around inconspicuously and Merlin knew exactly what he was thinking for it was the same question he wondered: Where the hell were the knights?

Merlin took a second to take a deep breath before he closed his eyes and let his magic travel back to the clearing, allowing him to watch his friends fight several new bandits who have seemingly come out of nowhere. They didn’t look too overwhelmed; they had faced odds far worse than these and came out of it alive and well but they were occupied enough to not be able to come help Arthur and Merlin out.

Snapping out of his daze Merlin gasped a bit as his magic went back under his control, simmering beneath the surface where he usually kept it and looked up to see Arthur staring at him.

Merlin knew it was unlikely that he had seen his eyes flash gold with magic considering he was several feet away but he still couldn’t stop the feeling of dread crawling up his spine and making his throat dry.

Merlin had to do something, couldn’t wait on the knights to finish their fight and come find them, couldn’t use anything but his magic against four bandits but Arthur was staring right at him, watching his every move.

Now, there was probably a rather simple solution to this problem. One where he could have just distracted the bandits enough for Arthur to get to his feet, pick up the sword, pick a fight against one or two bandits and get distracted enough for Merlin to finish the others off using magic with his king being none the wiser.

Merlin knew this. Merlin was about to step out of his hiding spot to shout something undoubtedly stupid at the group of enemies.

The only problem was the group of enemies had another member. One that was right behind him and grabbed his sword, seized his arm, pulled him up, twisting his arm painfully in the process and dragged him to the spot right next to Arthur while Merlin struggled helplessly and Arthur just watched defeatedly.

“Look what I found hidin’ in the bushes.” The thug shoved Merlin onto the ground, halfway on top on Arthur.

“Sorry, sire”, Merlin said quietly, glancing sideways at Arthur and feeling powerless because he knew. He knew what he could do to help. He knew their way out of this seemingly hopeless situation. He knew his power and he knew he could get them out of here without so much as breaking a sweat.

The only thing that stopped him was kneeling next to him, bleeding steadily out of his sword arm, looking pale from the blood loss and pain.

The bandits still bickering on in the background, Arthur just shrugged and said, “Oh well, nothing you could do anyway. You should have run, you know. When you had the chance.”

“And leave you here, defenseless in the hands of the enemy? Nah, you know that’s just not my style. Had to come help you,” Merlin answered in a tone more suitable for small talk.

Arthur snickered next to him, sounding a bit breathless. “Yeah, great help you got there. I don’t suppose you could’ve brought Leon or Gwaine with you?”

“Afraid they were otherwise occupied. ‘S just me.”

Arthur sighed then, slumping forward a bit. “Fantastic. Well, any great plans for getting us out of this?”

Merlin kept quiet for a minute, wishing this was one of those moments where Arthur would get conveniently knocked out and Merlin could save the day without being found out. His destiny however, as often as he was told great things about it, apparently hated him because his friend for once remained conscious.

He watched as the bandits stood around them, not giving the pair any more attention than the occasional glance while they argued back and forth whether to just kill them or if it was worth the risk of keeping them alive to try and use them for ransom.

Merlin closed his eyes. His shoulders sagged and he took a shaky breath.

This was it. He knew what he needed to do. He knew this day would come. Although he had thought the situation would be different. He had imagined it would be more … meaningful if he was honest. A more life threatening situation.

Of course four bandits with various sharp and scary looking weapons did check some boxes of the ‘life threatening’ category. Yet this still was a scene the two men had found themselves in more often than they cared to remember over the years.

Merlin had figured they’d be facing a magical beast, an undefeatable opponent, a life long enemy; he had envisioned this moment before another battle against Morgana, the reveal of his secret in an impossible situation when he would likely not live long enough for Arthur’s reaction to make much of a difference.

This all seemed rather anticlimactic to be honest.

Somehow however this setting, one they have seen many a time before, the both of them on their knees side by side, outnumbered by enemies, deep in a forest, the scent of wet earth in their noses, the movement of the fresh breeze gently shaking the branches and making the leaves rustle around their feet, the sound of a stream somewhere close by; it felt more significant and fitting than any scene Merlin could have imagined.

So Merlin, stupidly brave idiot that he was, turned to Arthur, looked at him one more time with the knowledge that this was the last time he could do so in this part of his life, this time before he knew, with the knowledge that this might even be the last time he would look at Arthur as his friend and then spoke to him with an apologetic smile.

“I do in fact. I’m just afraid you’re really gonna hate the plan.”

Arthur just looked at him as if to say ‘Tell me any time I ever actually liked one of your plans’ and motioned for him to go on.

“Do you trust me?” was the only thing Merlin said in regards to this plan. Arthur turned his head towards him, an annoyed and mocking remark undoubtedly ready on his lips but he stopped himself at the unusually serious expression on his friend’s face. For a moment he just looked at Merlin as if he could sense that this right there was going to be a turning point.

Then he nodded with an equally grave look on his face.

Merlin didn’t spare him another word, not even another glance because he knew he couldn’t bear to look at Arthur while doing this.

“Hey!” Merlin yelled to get the bandits’ attention. When they turned towards him he slowly stood up, holding his hands up in a placating manner while they pointed all their pointy blades at him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll run now. I really, _really_ don’t want to do this.”

A moment passed where the group of thugs just stared at Merlin. The sorcerer knew Arthur must have looked at him similarly, could almost hear him shouting “What on earth are you doing, Merlin?” and some part of him asked the same question. He shut that part up while the bandits started laughing at him.

“’What’s good for us’? What are you gonna do, boy, huh? Slap at us and start crying like a little girl?”

Merlin took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and ignored the urge to look to his right at Arthur again in favour of looking at the bandits with remorse in his eyes.

“I warned you. You should have listened. I’m sorry.”

And then he lifted his hand and released the strong hold he had on his magic. The men were pushed backwards by an invisible force, landing on their backs and groaning of pain. Arthur was gasping on the ground and Merlin saw him crawl backwards away from him out of the corner of his eye but tried not to let it get to him. He would deal with that later.

He watched as three of the bandits stumbled to their feet, one staying down knocked out from having hit a tree.

Merlin didn’t like killing. He hated it. Hated using his magic for something so vicious but he knew sometimes he just didn’t have any other choice.

So when his opponents picked up their swords again instead of trying to run, Merlin lifted his hand again, twisting it so his magic broke the neck of one of the men. He fell to the ground, his body lifeless.

One of the two men left standing stared at his accomplice in horror. Upon noticing the his friend running at Merlin sword raised and screaming bloody murder, the man quickly snapped out of it and joined him. Merlin made short work of them, sending them backwards with a force far mightier than before. None of them would get up again.

Breathing only slightly accelerated, Merlin now stood there in the forest, surrounded by enemy bodies, well aware that Arthur would never look at him the same. He almost couldn’t bear to turn around but he had to make sure his king was still alive.

So with slow movements, hands where Arthur could see them, Merlin turned towards him, keeping his eyes to the floor.

For a long moment no one said anything. The trees were still, the stream silent, the breeze that had whipped around them the entire time had stopped. It was as if the elements all agreed that this was a special moment in time; one of a kind.

And then it was as if something let go and the breeze started up again, rustling the trees once more and making the water nearby flow faster and louder.

“Arthur…”

For a second Arthur looked like he was going to start shouting at him, no doubt demanding to know what the hell was going on in many angry words and the occasional insult. He didn’t get to that point though because his eyes widened and shot to something over Merlin’s shoulders.

“Merlin, behind you!”

Well, that wasn’t what Merlin had expected so it took him a moment to comprehend before he swirled around realising that the man who’d fallen unconscious upon that first blow of magic was in fact very conscious right now.

Very conscious and very much about to run him through with a sword.

Merlin felt his magic flowing to his head, into his eyes and within a second he saw the world through that magic filter. Everything seemed slower, sharper. His eyes darted around the forest ground, finding Arthur’s abandoned sword and wrapped his magic around it to pick it up and send it flying into the last bandit’s back with only a jerk of his head.

Coming out of the daze, he stumbled around to look at Arthur again who just glared at him. He didn’t necessarily look frightened which Merlin figured was at least something. Sadly he didn’t look overjoyed either.

It felt like an eternity that the both of them just stared at each other. Nobody dared to move. Nobody dared to speak.

And then once more the silence was broken. This time by the man who seemed to be the walking, breathing impersonification of the opposite of the word silence.

Gwaine came bursting through the bushes, the rest of the knights at his heels. They all looked a little worse for wear but unharmed and relaxed. At least someone had had a good time then.

“Gentlemen!” Gwaine grinned at them, completely disregarding the weird atmosphere around them. “Been wondering where you’ve gone!” He looked around pushing out his lower lip in a fake pout. “Aw, you’ve been having all the fun without us?”

Merlin didn’t know how to answer; all the fight had left him the second the last bandit was dead, leaving only exhaustion and dread in its wake.

Leon, always the sensitive one, apparently picked up on his king’s strange mood while he helped him stand and unpromptedly brought Arthur up to speed while the knights and Merlin went back to their horses.

Merlin knew Lancelot was talking to him, trying to figure out what had happened. He wasn’t stupid after all; he had realised there weren’t any sword wounds on three out of four bodies. Having known about Merlin’s magic almost right from the start and noticing Arthur’s glares and silence and Merlin’s blank face and trembling hands as he took hold of his horse’s tack, Lancelot could easily put two and two together.

Merlin just couldn’t bring himself to speak to confirm his friend’s suspicion. He just stood by his horse, kept mechanically petting its mane and staring ahead, going through every possible way Arthur could react in his head. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear Leon call his name until he stood right next to him, shouting into his ear.

“Merlin!” The sorcerer jerked his head and stared at Leon questioningly.

The knight sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“What is going on with you two?” He didn’t wait for an answer though, having been exposed to Merlin and Arthur’s nonsense for so many years he only rolled his eyes at them and carried on. “Arthur got wounded. It’s not that bad but you should probably look at it before we leave for Camelot.”

Merlin swallowed hard and nodded jerkily. He knew he must have looked awful so he wasn’t surprised when Leon looked him up and down, searching his body for any injuries and asked if he was alright.

Merlin just nodded affirmatively and turned to his horse to grab a few pieces of cloth out of the bag strapped to the saddle. One more deep breath and he walked over to where Arthur sat a bit away from the group on the ground. He was holding a water skin but didn’t appear as if he had drunk anything, instead opting to stare ahead of him, looking positively shell-shocked. Merlin tried to move as slowly and deliberately as possible so as not to startle Arthur as he looked deep in thought.

“Leon asked me to look at your wound.” He kneeled down on the ground, leaving a bigger distance between them than he would have normally. “Sire.” He added quietly as he felt like he should tack the title on, not entirely sure why.

Arthur didn’t answer so Merlin set to work, still trying not to make any sudden moves as if his king was a frightened animal. When he was done cleaning the wound with some wet rags and bandaging it with clean cloth, Merlin sat still after tying a knot on his king’s arm.

“Arthur…” He didn’t know what he would have said had he been given the chance but Arthur made the decision for him by abruptly standing up and turning away.

“I can’t do this right now,” he said lowly, his tone flat in that way Merlin knew by now to be forcedly expressionless. It was the tone Arthur had often used with his father when he made decisions that hurt his son. Merlin winced at that same inflection being directed at him.

Arthur walked away to his horse and called to his men, “Let’s head home!”

* * *

The sight of the group on their way back to Camelot was quite an unusual one.

Arthur being at the very front not so much but the spot next to him where typically there sat the only person not in chain mail and a Pendragon-red cape was empty.  
That same person now rode in the back, making up the tail end together with Lancelot.

In front of them Gwaine shielded their conversation from Percival, Elyan and Leon who noticed the odd mood around them but stayed out of it for they did not have enough of a death wish to comment on whatever was going on between their king and his strange servant so they stuck to glancing between themselves and keeping quiet.  
  


Lancelot maintained a quiet conversation, determined not to let Merlin freak out even more than he already was.

The noble knight was the one friend who knew about his secret almost right from when they first met.

Well, there was also Gwaine.

He had suspected from the start; plates flying around the tavern seemingly on their own not necessarily the weirdest sight he's ever seen but definitely the strangest one while sober.

He had known for certain when Grettir, upon entering the Perilous Lands, had referred to Merlin as Magic, something the young warlock hadn’t realised he'd heard.

But Gwaine was never concerned for his magic, always kept quiet about it because to him it changed nothing. If someone was willing to have his back and fight alongside him in both bar brawl and beast battle then who was he to judge their weapon of choice?

So he rode in front of Lancelot and Merlin listening in on their conversation and keeping an eye out for Leon, Elyan and Percival even though he knew those three were only too happy to keep out of the drama of the week.

“He’s going to hate me. He’ll never speak to me again.” Merlin’s voice trembled slightly, testament to how terrified he really felt.

Ahead of them, not able to keep quiet and out of it any longer Gwaine turned around on his horse halfway to stare at Merlin dumbfoundedly. “That's what you're worried about? Him hating you? How about him chopping your head off? How about him burning you alive?”

Considering this was the first time Gwaine actually acknowledged his magic, Merlin probably should have shown a reaction to it. As it was, the thought of the knight knowing about his secret didn’t even strike him as weird though so he simply shrugged his shoulders, feeling as if there was a heavy weight pushing down on them. “I don’t care about that.”

“Well you should!“ Gwaine almost shouted but thought better of it as he glanced back at the knights in front of him, toning down his volume a bit.

Merlin just sighed deeply, knowing Gwaine wouldn’t understand it and being too tired to explain properly right now. “It’s my destiny to protect Arthur. How am I supposed to do that if he hates me?”

Gwaine went to throw his hands up in an exasperated manner before he remembered that he, in fact, was sitting on top of a horse and would do well to actually hold on to the tack if he didn’t want to fall off. So he settled to simply scoff incredulously at Merlin. “And how, pray tell, are you supposed to do that if you're dead?”

At this point even patient, good hearted Lancelot apparently had enough of this pointless back and forth and decided that maybe his friends both needed an optimistic voice of reason. “No one is going to die!” He glared at Gwaine for a second until he was sure he wasn’t going to retort.

Then he turned to Merlin and reminded him gently, “How about you channel some of that unconditional faith you’ve always had in Arthur? Have you not realized how much he cares for you, Merlin? Yes, he's upset right now but to be fair you did keep a pretty big secret from him for years. I don't believe you wouldn't feel at least a little bit betrayed at that. You would also do well to remember that all his life he’d been told that magic was evil and every sorcerer would be corrupted by it sooner or later.”

Merlin squirmed in his seat, a guilty expression appearing on his face. Lancelot smiled at him sympathetically.

“Look, Merlin, all I’m saying is I don’t think he will hate you,” with a pointed look at Gwaine he added, “Or kill you. You know that’s not the kind of person he is.”

Gwaine turned back around in his seat, having said his part and knowing his words would only make Merlin feel worse. Not knowing his words would carry back to Merlin, not knowing it would make his face even paler, his eyes even more terrified, Gwaine whispered to himself, “But what if it’s the kind of king he is?”

* * *

In the evening, long after night had fallen over Camelot, Merlin stood in front of the doors to Arthur’s chambers, his forehead against the wood trying to gather up the courage to knock and enter.

He hadn’t seen the king since they’d arrived. Arthur had jumped off his horse before it had even stopped completely, taking the stairs into the castle so fast you could have thought there was a magical beast chasing him. In a twisted way Merlin supposed there was.

Merlin had taken their horses to the stables, removed their tacks and saddles and given them a thorough brush down. He stayed there longer than he needed, only leaving to go to the armoury and start cleaning and polishing every piece of Arthur’s armour he could find. He needed to keep busy or he would go insane from worrying.

He should have gone to see if his king needed anything hours ago but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Besides, if he did require Merlin he could have sent another servant for him. Or his guards if he came to the decision that he wanted Merlin locked up.

But at long last there was nothing more to do than go to Arthur’s rooms and get him set for the night. Merlin was a useless servant at times, yes; he also kept a huge secret from Arthur, true. But he wouldn’t neglect his duties as the king’s servant because he was too terrified of confrontation.

Well, he wouldn’t neglect his duties any further.

So that’s how Merlin found himself standing at the wooden doors, having stowed his fear enough to at least knock.

“Enter!” came the muffled order from inside and Merlin took a shaky breath, brought up his equally trembling hands and opened the doors.

Arthur looked mildly surprised for a second when he saw Merlin come in which in turn confused Merlin for a moment until he remembered that he rarely ever knocked; a fact Arthur reminded him of regularly to no avail.

Merlin felt his face heat up upon that realisation so he hid it by closing the door behind him.

When he turned back around, the king had banned all expression from his face and opted to keep standing by the fireplace, his hands propped against the top ledge of it and his forehead resting on his arms staring into the burning embers as if they could tell him all the answers of the universe. One of his favourite spots for contemplation.

Merlin decided not to speak and went about readying the chambers for the night. He shuffled around the room as quietly as he could, trying to make himself disappear into the shadows while he turned down the bed, closed windows, drew curtains, extinguished candles.

The chambers had over time become something akin to a second home to Merlin. He spent so much time in here that he had come to see them as cozy; the red curtains, blankets and pillows bringing in warmth, the candles strewn throughout emitting a comfortable glow.

Today however the stone walls radiated cold, the heavy curtains made him feel as if they didn’t let enough air in, leaving him gasping for breath, the weighty wooden furniture so dark it made the room look smaller than it was, the fire in the hearth casting threatening shadows on the walls.

When Merlin was done with his chores, all he wanted was to get out of there.

Instead he walked up to Arthur but stopped several feet away, standing up straight with his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed slightly.

“How’s your arm?” he asked – stalling because he wasn’t ready to address the elephant in the room.

Arthur winced marginally and rolled his shoulder as if the reminder of the wound made pain flare up. “It’s fine,” he said, his answer directed to the fire.

They both fell silent once more, none of them ready for this conversation. Merlin knew however he was never going to be ready for this so he gritted his teeth and asked the question he so desperately didn’t want answered.

“What are you going to do?”

Arthur didn’t turn. He didn’t move. In fact, Merlin was almost certain he didn’t even breathe; something they both had in common.

The seconds painstakingly went by, Merlin getting more nervous with each and every one. He could feel his heart pound in his chest and his hands shake behind his back.

Then finally Arthur let out a deep breath and buried his face in his hands.

“I don’t know. I haven’t made a decision yet. I’ll send for you once I do.”

“But…”

“That will be all, Merlin.” Arthur’s tone made it clear that he would not be swayed, that he did not want to be challenged right now but Merlin being Merlin, he had to try.

“Arthur-“

“I said get out!” Arthur turned and shouted at him; his words were angry but his face betrayed him. He looked lost, he looked forlorn and for the first time in a long time he looked as young as he was. He always put on a convincing mask, made his people feel at ease knowing their king was sure of himself and made good decisions. Even Merlin rarely got to look behind that mask.

But right there in this moment the mask was nowhere to be seen.

Right now there was just Arthur who didn’t know how to deal with the fact that his best friend had kept a secret for many, many years. Right there was a young man who had to make a choice but didn’t know where to even begin to decide.

And Merlin couldn’t bear to look at that any longer so he bowed his head if only to hide his tears, turned around and left; the heavy doors falling shut behind him with a sound that reverberated in both their hearts.

* * *

That Arthur didn't call his guards to drag Merlin to the dungeons until he reached his verdict but simply let him leave on his own was either testament of how much Arthur still trusted Merlin not to flee the city or of how scattered his usually so calculating brain was in the wake of Merlin’s revelation.  
Not that there was even an ounce of temptation to run in Merlin’s mind. No, he was going to sit this out, wait for his judgment and hope for the best.  
Not everyone agreed with him on the matter though.

“Are you out of your mind, Merlin? You have to run!” shouted Gaius as soon as he learned about the whole situation over supper.

  
Merlin sighed, poking around with his spoon in whatever stew the physician had cooked up, his lack of appetite for once nothing to do with Gaius being a disaster at cooking. “I'm not going to run, Gaius. Don't you think that would make me look guilty?”  
  


Gaius regarded him with an incredulous look. “You _are_ guilty, Merlin! You are a sorcerer. In the heart of Camelot. Your very existence is outlawed!”

That got him a look which clear as day said, ‘Gee, thanks, now that you say it like that I feel way better about the whole situation!’ before Merlin pushed his bowl away and rubbed his hands over his face. “I'm tired of running from myself, Gaius. If I run, if I go to another village, another town, I will have to hide once more. I'm just so tired of it all. In a way I’m almost relieved the secret’s out. Whatever the consequence, it’s out in the open now and I can’t do anything about it. It’s almost liberating really. I just want to be myself. And if that means I die then so be it.”

Leaving Gaius at a loss for words at the table, Merlin went up the stairs to his room and closed the door. He just wanted to fall asleep and forget about this whole mess, if only for a while.

* * *

When Merlin was summoned to the king, it wasn't the crowd of guards he had expected to drag him to the council chambers.

It was Leon who knocked softly at the door to his room, poking his head in with an almost apologetic smile.

"King wants to see you, Merlin."

Merlin who hadn't moved all night from where he stared blankly at the wall curled up on his bed, looked up at the blonde knight for a moment trying to gauge from his expression what mood Arthur might be in.

Deciding it didn't matter much anymore anyway, Merlin sat up nodding and took a deep breath as he tried to prepare himself for the inevitable mess he was going to face.

He stopped at his bedroom door to take a last mournful look at all his belongings and essentially his life in Camelot then closed it softly like the bittersweet ending to a book you had become so fond of you never wanted to finish it.

Before he could follow Sir Leon out of Gaius' chambers Merlin came face to face with the physician himself.

The young warlock knew he wouldn't be able to hold back his tears if Gaius spoke a word so he pleaded with his eyes, shook his head slightly, hoping desperately his mentor would understand he couldn't do this right now.

Gaius, wonderful, sympathetic, understanding man that he was, just nodded at Merlin, his kind eyes expressing everything they knew they wouldn't have to say out loud.

"I'll have your favorite meal waiting for you."

And just like that Gaius left his chambers to go one way while Leon led Merlin the other; none of them ready to say goodbye just yet; both hoping against all hope that they wouldn't have to at all.

Despite all the cautious optimism they had parted with, Merlin was working up more and more anxiety with every stiff step he took through the castle that had long since become his home.

Leon didn't try to start a conversation, something Merlin was eternally grateful for. Even if the knight had spoken to him he had a feeling he would have been too immersed in his own mind to notice.

Thoughts of his last hours alive spent confined to the cold damp darkness of the dungeons beneath them, the blazing heat of the fire that would lick at him and sear his skin off the bones when he was sentenced to die at the pyre, the stares of all the people he knew as he burned while they watched with hatred on their faces, betrayal in their eyes while they whispered how they thought they knew him, how they could not believe he had deceived them all these years.

Threading all these images together was one familiar voice, sounding doubtful and a little frightened asking the same thing over and over and over.

‘But what if that’s the kind of king he is?’

Amongst all these scenes his mind was illustrating, it was the ones in comparison objectively light in horror that had him stumble over his own feet, startled by the iron like grip he suddenly felt around his heart.

Arthur standing on the balcony seeing out over the courtyard where his father had stood all these years ago the day Merlin first arrived in Camelot just in time to see a sorcerer be executed.

Arthur high above the pyre already set up for the imminent verdict.

Arthur looking devastated as he sentenced his oldest friend, the best, most loyal companion he ever had, to death.

Arthur not able to hide his tears as Merlin was pushed forward, yanked up towards the wooden pole.

Arthur having to hold onto the stone railing as he watched the executioner light the torch.

Arthur turning around and storming into the castle, incapable to witness Merlin being killed at his hand.

"Merlin?" There were hands on his shoulders, shaking them and consequently him out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?" Leon asked him concerned, looking unsure whether or not to ignore the king's orders and get him back to Gaius to get him looked at.

Only then Merlin realized he had worked himself up enough that he shook like a leaf, his breathing going rapidly yet still not getting enough air in, his heart pounding in his chest fast enough he was sure it would soon shoot out through his ribs, his eyes burning and his face wet.

"I'm fine! I'm okay! I'm sorry. I … I'm sorry. I'll be alright, don't worry", Merlin rambled on, his throat dry as if he hadn't seen any water in days.

Leon didn't look convinced but they were standing in front of Arthur's chambers and there was little he could do right now so he settled for an encouraging squeeze of Merlin's shoulder before he nodded at the door.

"Better not keep Arthur waiting, then."

Merlin once again thanked the knight a thousand times over in his head because after another nod, this time directed at Merlin, he turned around and left the hallway the same way they came, obviously sensing Merlin was going to need another minute to calm himself down enough before entering.

Watching his friend leave until he turned around a corner and out of his sight, Merlin rubbed his face and tried to get his breathing under control but failed as his mind helpfully kept showing him images of fire and death and the king's tears.

Finally recognizing he wouldn’t regain composure any time soon, Merlin accepted his destiny, one so much messier than the great destiny the dragon always spoke of, and pushed through the heavy doors, not bothering with knocking.

What's the point of knocking when you were walking to your death?

For a moment after Merlin had shut the door and turned to face his king they just stood on either side of the room staring at each other.  
  
Then the smell of burning wood and ash hit him and suddenly he was back on the pyre. Forcing his mind to clear enough to be able to keep up the impending conversation, Merlin swayed slightly, holding onto one of the chairs at the table to keep his knees from buckling and himself upright.  
  
He didn't look up at Arthur as he ran a hand over his face trying to wipe away the tears.  
  
"Let me at least say goodbye to Gaius," he pleaded quietly, afraid his voice would break if he spoke up.  
  
For a moment Arthur was silent. Then, "What?"  
  


Merlin held back a sob.  
  
"You know he's been like a father to me. Please, I can't ... leave him without saying goodbye."  
  
Another beat.  
  
"What are you even - you're not going to die, Merlin."  
  
Merlin looked up at that, confused as he had convinced himself there was but one way this was going to go.  
  
"So I'm just banished?"  
  
Arthur looked at him bewildered and slightly annoyed. "No, you aren’t banished either."  
  
Now Merlin was just confused. He huffed a little helplessly, shrugged his shoulders and let his gaze wander through the room. He didn't know what to make of this.

"But - " he started but was interrupted by Arthur sighing heavily and approaching the table. He pulled out the biggest chair at the head where he usually sat and motioned for Merlin to sit down next to him.

  
Unsure what all this meant but too tired to argue Merlin silently joined his king at the table, slumping down and hugging himself as soon as he was seated.

All the while Arthur watched him with a thoughtful expression that turned into a small almost remorseful smile as he relaxed his shoulders and leaned back in his chair, having come to a decision in his mind.  
  
“Merlin, when I found out yesterday I was angry. I wanted to scream at you, shout at you how you could betray me like that, how you could keep this secret from me for so long.”  
As he thought back to the moment he found out – was it really only yesterday? Merlin hadn’t slept and the hours simultaneously seemed to have dragged on forever yet gone by in the blink of an eye – Arthur’s eyes gleamed a little angrily and Merlin shrunk back in his seat even more.  
“I wanted answers but I also knew I couldn't get them in that moment because I didn't want the knights to find out about you. At least not before I ... Made the decision what to do about you. So I kept quiet and it gave me time to think.” Arthur paused to make Merlin look at him. He smiled a little and it made Merlin think for the first time since he realised he was going to have to use his magic that just maybe things could turn out okay in the end after all.

“Don't get me wrong; I'm still upset. But I'm not angry because you kept your magic secret.”  
  
At this Merlin couldn’t help but ask surprised, “You aren’t?”  
  
Arthur chuckled a little before his expression shifted to one slightly hurt and he let his shoulders sag. “No. I’m upset that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. I’ve been confiding in you all these years yet you didn't …” He didn’t finish his sentence, opting to instead ask, “What did you think I would do?”  
  
Merlin shifted in his seat and huffed an awkward laugh. “Well, you might’ve chopped my head off.”  
  
Arthur looked away at that. “I don’t think I could ever do that.”  
  
Feeling reassured now Merlin leaned forward and touched Arthur’s arm to make him look at him. “Arthur, I didn’t know what you were going to do. I didn’t tell you because I never wanted to put you in that position. I never wanted you to have to make that decision.”  
  
Arthur stared at the hand still on his arm for a few seconds before he looked at Merlin’s face with an expression like he just couldn’t believe his servant. “So you protected me once again.”  
  
Merlin looked at him questioningly, not sure what to make of that. Arthur sighed and leaned back in his seat. “You protected me from having to make the decision whether or not to kill the one friend who’s stood by my side through it all. Through every battle, every betrayal, every person I’ve lost. You were there, right beside me, never leaving even when our odds were slim to none. Merlin, you truly are the most loyal person in all of Camelot.”  
  
At the praise Merlin felt his ears heat up and he squirmed around a little. Yes, he always did want Arthur to see just how often he had helped instead of being seen as a cowardly idiot and hearing all this felt great but now that he had gotten his wish, Merlin didn’t know how to react to the unsual appreciation.  
  
So he did what he usually did when he felt awkward and didn’t know what to say: He started rambling.  
  
“Well, you know it's just a good thing you’ve never found out and did have me killed. Just imagine there’d have been no one around to protect you from all the big bad magical creatures!”

Merlin had stood up and was now moving about the room picking up clothes and pieces of armour and plates only to redistribute them on the other side of the chambers on yet another flat surface. “And by the gods you can use all the protection you can get, you’re right about that!” Merlin turned to Arthur with an incredulous face. “Do you even realise how often you get yourself in trouble? Do you know how often people try to kill you? It’s not even funny anymore how often I have to save your royal backside!”

  
Arthur had watched the whole outburst with badly concealed amusement. “I suppose I should have realised how things never made any sense any time you were around. What with the branches and rocks always seeming to fall on enemy heads, knocking them out but never our own. How I always conveniently gave the killing blow just as I passed out.” He looked at Merlin with a contemplating gaze. “That was all you, wasn’t it?”

Not knowing how to answer this question without Arthur’s ego and confidence suffering a hard blow he shrugged non-committally and went about folding a shirt he picked up from the dresser where he had thrown it minutes before. “To be fair there have been some you killed. Like …” He really tried to remember one. “Well …” There must’ve been some creature. “Uhm-“ Racking his mind and coming up short he turned to Arthur, shirt abandoned once more and smiled at him sheepishly. “I’m sure there was one.”  
  
Arthur just looked at him like he wasn’t sure whether he should just kill him after all; not for sorcery but for his big mouth.

  
He decided to let it go after a second, figuring he deserved that for never figuring Merlin’s secret out on his own – the cabbage head was so clumsy and idiotic it really was a miracle it had taken them this long to be having this conversation – and asked about another thing that had never made much sense to him.  
“So what you’re saying is you don’t spend all your time at the tavern?”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes at that, annoyed to a great extent. “No! I can literally count on one hand how many times I’ve seen the inside of that tavern!” He smiled at Arthur teasingly. “You really should have realised that when Gwaine kept saying he never saw me there. He basically lives in those barstools. He should have seen me there at least once had it been true.”  
  
Arthur hummed in agreement. “To be honest I just figured you were doing your best to avoid him. I know I do when Gwaine’s been drinking.” He glanced at his servant with new found wonder. “So every time I asked Gaius where you were - “  
  
“ - I was out saving your neck most likely, yeah.” The warlock rolled his eyes again. “Gaius is just really bad at coming up with excuses, uncreative old toad.” He muttered without noticing how Arthur’s eyes widened and he sat up straight at the insult.  
  
“Toad … _Toad_!” Merlin turned to look at Arthur as if he had started to grow donkey ears again. Arthur ignored him in favour of pointing his raised finger at him. “It was you! _You_ were the old sorcerer! I knew something about the guy’s idiotic insults struck me as familiar! You’d called me a toad before!” Then he added, almost to himself, “That certainly explains why I recognized his eyes. Well, your eyes, obviously.”  
  
Though Arthur didn’t look as upset by this realisation as Merlin thought he was going to be, Merlin shifted from one leg to the other, waiting for the other shoe to drop in Arthur’s mind. When nothing happened Merlin carefully started, “About that … The old sorcerer … _I_ didn’t kill your father. Morgana had enchanted a pendant to reverse and enhance any attempt at healing him.” With a voice quieter and full of misery he added, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save him.”  
  
The king once again surprised his servant by waving a hand, trying to look nonchalant. Merlin could see straight through his act and recognised the grief that still weighed down Arthur’s shoulders, What he didn’t anticipate was the lack of accusation.  
  
“I figured he … _You_ didn’t mean for that to happen. You looked far too shocked by my father’s death for it to have been planned, even if I didn’t realise it at the time.”

Arthur looked so genuinely sorry that Merlin couldn’t help but put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it compassionately. “You were in shock, Arthur. You were mourning. Anyone would have reacted the same way."  
  
They were both quiet for a while after that. None knew what to say but both of them could tell the conversation was yet to be over.  
  
Arthur didn’t look like he still shared his father’s hatred of sorcery, didn’t seem apprehensive to Merlin’s magic yet Merlin still needed him to understand just how misplaced Uther’s hostility had been; needed to make sure Arthur would know how important magic truly was to Merlin. So he sat back down next to him and waited for Arthur to look him in the eyes.  
  
“Arthur, I need you to understand something. Magic isn’t evil. Magic is …” Merlin had a hard time putting it into words for it had always been a part of him; not something to be explained but something to be felt. He had to try anyway. He owed it to himself, to every innocent soul who had been sentenced to die for no reason at all, to everyone he had promised that there would come a time when those with magic would be able to live freely in peace without having to fear for their lives.  
  
“Magic is pure. It’s beautiful, it’s the very fabric of this world. It’s part of everything and everyone. And most importantly magic is a representation of the person harbouring it. If the person is of good heart then their magic will be used for good. But if a bad person possesses magic … Bad things happen. Magic is just as evil as the person using it. It’s not this corrupt thing people like your father make it out to be. At least it’s not if you have someone to guide you and show you what’s right and wrong, like I have in Gaius.

  
Morgana … She didn’t have that.” Merlin looked away for a moment, guilt coursing through him as it did anytime he thought of his former friend. “I have many regrets about Morgana. There’s a lot I feel responsible for but for all that I’ve done wrong concerning her, she still chose her own path.  
  
Arthur, what I’m trying to say is, though some people use it as a weapon, use it for their own advantage to gain power, magic is nothing to be fearful of. It’s a wonderful thing and it's a part of me I would never want to give up and I hope I can one day show you just how great it is.”

Merlin ended his little speech with a wide grin so full of hope and happiness Arthur didn’t have any other choice but to smile at him softly and tell him, “I think you already have.”

  
And if the king and his warlock sat at that same table until the sun started to show behind the mountaintops far beyond Camelot and talked about what beast Arthur did kill and what he in fact did not, what tree branch fell by coincidence and what by Merlin’s volition, what image Merlin did conjure up out of smoke and what the old hags from the lower town had only made up … Well, then that was no one’s business but their own.


End file.
